


Hunger

by pat_t



Category: Highlander: The Series, Moonlight (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pat_t/pseuds/pat_t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rogue vampires are on the loose in Seacover. Can immortals and vampires keep their secret safe?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idontlikegravy (subcircus)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/subcircus/gifts).



Los Angeles November 15 

Mick St. John strolled through the carefully guarded corridor of his friend's home, absorbing the unmistakable scent of another vampire, and knowing he was being observed every step of the way by security cameras. Years ago, a vampire's reflection couldn't be caught on camera. With digital technology those days were long gone. 

As he entered the main room, opulent to most, comfortable and welcoming to himself, Mick smiled as the owner paced the living room area, phone to ear, while he followed up on the newest financial negotiation. 

Josef Kostan was a hedge-fund trader, very wealthy, openly living a luxurious and public life. Too risky. It wasn't just the fact that he was on the board of numerous charities and had a substantial global financial empire. It was much more personal and dangerous than that. 

At four hundred and ten years old, Josef was one of the oldest and most powerful vampires in the world. Dangerous. He was naturally paranoid and took precautions to guard his secret, but Mick still worried that his friend took too many risks. Not only did Josef surround himself with the wealthiest of the business world, he reveled in all the perks. Perks including beautiful mortal women who got a sexual thrill from allowing the handsome vampire to suck the blood from their wrists and arms. Too damn risky.

The intimacy and sexual nature of a vampire’s bite could be addictive to some women. Mick got that. _The fact that Josef was powerful and rich probably had nothing to do with it_ , Mick thought sarcastically. He had once told Josef that he was the only one who didn’t like him simply for his money. Sadly, Josef had agreed. His friend was a realist.

At Mick's entrance, Josef looked up, snapped his fingers and everyone, staff and women alike, immediately and without question exited the room. Mick sat down on a plush leather couch and waited for his friend to finish his phone call. Looking around the room Mick took stock of the comfortable but expensive furniture, the polished ceiling beams, the aura of a room that left no doubt that this was a man's home. 

As Josef stepped closer, Mick picked up the last remnants of the phone conversation.

"That won't do, Grey ... When? ... The Darfur shipment? ... Send me the contract and I'll note your changes ... No ... Soon." 

Mick smiled when Josef clicked off the phone and scowled. 

"Christian Grey. He's a fucking asshole." 

"Then why do business with him?" Mick asked reasonably. 

Josef smirked and pushed the phone across the couch end table. "Because he's also a fucking genius. I'll make a fortune doing business with him."

Mick frowned. "One of us?"

"Hardly. And it's a damn good thing he's not. I wouldn't want to turn him, although a brunette I knew in San Francisco had once considered it. I'm not sure why she backed off. Guess he was more than even she wanted to handle."

Mick watched and waited while his friend paced the hardwood floor. _Why so agitated?_ Something was up and he didn't think it was a business transaction with an arrogant billionaire.

"Look, it's not that I don't like catching up, but you called me here for a reason. Don't tell me it's about this guy."

He tensed when Josef stilled and gave him a knowing smile.

"Not likely. I need you to go undercover for me, Mick. It shouldn’t be for long, but it _is_ strictly confidential. You can’t tell anyone what you’re doing. Not even your reporter friend.”

Mick looked up at Josef and glared, knowing full well the effort was completely wasted on the other man. With an exasperated sigh, he gave up. "Her name is Beth. And why the hell not? What's going on Josef?"

Finally, his friend dropped down across from him in an oversized leather chair. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his upper thighs. "You've heard the stories about immortals?"

"Yeah, I've heard them. Don't tell me you believe they're true?" Mick asked with a muted chuckle of disbelief.

"They exist. I’ve known an immortal for over three hundred and fifty years. Mick, he saved me, and I owe him. I haven’t seen him for decades, but I do consider him a friend. But it’s fairly complicated, and it’s safer if none of us know too much about the other’s world. Like vampires, they have their own community and their own agenda. More importantly, they're as undetectable to us as they are to mortals. We can't sense them. But they can sense each other.

"What I do know is that the only way they can permanently die is to be decapitated. Fire won’t kill them unless their head is separated from their bodies when it happens. Frankly, coming back after being burned alive doesn't seem to be a good trade off,” Josef scoffed. Deadpan. Typical Josef.

"And what the hell does any of this have to do with us?" Mick asked curiously. "How did this become vampire business?"

"That's the irony. Some smart vamp happened up on an immortal, not knowing what the guy was, and discovered that immortal blood is more potent than a mere mortals. Word got out, and the black market is already gearing up to make a profit. Once that became known, a group of rogue vampires began kidnapping immortals and holding them captive for their blood. At first no one noticed since immortals kill one another; the legend links it to some type of _Game_. But then someone became suspicious because immortals were showing up in certain areas and mysteriously disappearing.”

Josef paused, obviously giving him time to process everything. He was grateful. It had been a hell of a long day, and this was a lot to absorb. Idly, he wondered if his friend kept a supply of blood on hand. Josef couldn’t always depend on a willing woman to be around, could he? His friend’s smirk was all too knowing and irritating as hell.

"If what you say is true and we can’t sense them, how would vamps even know if they found an immortal?”

"How do you locate people and information, Mick? They follow the leads, watch and wait. Like I said, most immortals hunt and kill one another. But it also happens that not all immortals follow their own culture. Some become friends and congregate just like we do in a community."

"So why now? If this has been going on for a while, why are we getting involved now?"

Josef regarded Mick with amusement, then stood up and walked to a small, discreet refrigerator. He pulled out a tall glass of blood. Grinning, he took a long sip, then set it on the counter. "Have some? Red head, beautiful. She was more than willing to donate. In fact, I believe she's due back this week.” He took another hefty swallow and his grin shifted into a smirk. “Be warned, her blood is potent; I can taste her pheromones. She came."

Mick shook his head. His friend made him smile, but Mick had his own set of rules, and the only blood he drank was from his source at the hospital.

Obviously aware that Mick wasn’t going to join him, Josef returned the blood to the refrigerator, then casually strolled back to sit across from him. "On first glance, the vampire group seemed harmless enough. But now it's come to the tribunal's attention that they may be setting up a war between vampires and immortals. If that were to happen, we could all be exposed."

 _Fuck_. It was hard enough getting his mind around the fact that immortals actually existed. If he had time to actually process the information, he might see how ludicrous it was for a vampire to be shocked. How was he going to explain this to Beth without actually telling her what was going on? But Josef was right. They couldn’t afford the risk of exposure.

"Okay, say I'm with you. How do I fit into all this?"

"Intel is that their next strike will be in a town called Seacouver in Washington State. Your new identity is already being established. If things go to plan, you'll move to Seacouver in March to take over a pre-criminology class at Seacouver University. PI class 101."

"You've got to be kidding. How the hell are you going to pull that off?"

"We're working with the immortal community. We have our resources.”

"Why Seacouver? And if it's so damn important, why are we waiting until the spring?"

"Because Seacouver happens to be the home of a powerful and well known immortal named Duncan MacLeod. When he's in town, his immortal friends tend to congregate. Since it appears MacLeod is fairly predictable, his enemies also tend to show up with regularity. Evidently, MacLeod's head is a fucking prize. But there’s a problem. He’s somewhere in Europe right now, and no one knows where. He would normally be in Paris, but for some reason he hasn't shown up at his home.”

Mick frowned. “If MacLeod’s missing, what’s the problem? The gang will choose another target. If they’re being tracked we’ll get them then.”

“They’re being tracked, but you don’t need to know all the details. Trust me, Mick. It’s for your benefit. The problem is that there hasn’t been any reported activity from the vampire gang for several weeks. Word is that they’ve completely gone to ground. However, it’s been verified that MacLeod will return to Seacouver to teach Art History at the University during the spring semester. That’s when we suspect our rogue vampire gang will reappear, not only for MacLeod, but for his friends and any other immortals who happen to show up.”

Mick sat up, his mind already sorting through plans and logistics. "I'll be able to find the vampires, but what about the immortals? I'll be going in blind. Well, so to speak."

"You'll have an immortal contact, Adam Pierson. He's a linguistics professor at the University. Not only will he help you with your new identity at the university, he'll set you up with other immortals. More importantly, he's a close friend of MacLeod's."

Mick nodded and surprisingly found himself grinning. "This might actually be fun."

Josef grinned back, but sobered quickly when Mick stood up to leave. "You'll have to be careful, my friend. Immortals won't have your strength or speed, but they do heal just as quickly and they know how to kill us. There’s one more thing you need to keep in mind as well. Although I'm considered old in our world, some immortals count their ages in millennia instead of centuries." 

Secouver, Washington March 1 

Adam Pierson, aka Methos, the world’s oldest immortal, packed away the day’s lesson into a worn deep brown back pack. His student’s test papers came next, crammed as they were into the abbreviated space. He watched while the students piled out, whispering among themselves, with an occasional giggle or disgruntled sigh accentuating the normal ebb and flow. He hid his smile and shook his head when someone stage whispered a complaint as though his presence was unimportant. Did they think his hearing was impaired? His assumed age of thirty-two certainly didn’t put him in the ranks of the elderly. If they only knew.

He waited in his office until he knew the Pre-Criminology class would disperse. Casually, he sauntered outside the History and Language building to the main concourse where some of the students leaned lazily against the sparse trees, while others sat around in small groups on the ground, already dividing themselves into social clusters that would most likely define them throughout their adult lives. _Seemed that some things never changed_ , he thought with a mild note of amusement.

Even though it was the beginning of the spring semester, the air still had the gentle bite of lingering winter. The fading wind tickled the grass which had already started its transformation into something newer, softer, the blades green and welcoming. Regrowth into something new. The illusion remained throughout the centuries. Personally, he preferred fall with its rich colors; when the tangy hint of winter hovered like a mischievous child – or a veiled threat.

Setting his back pack aside, he sat down, his back supported against a large oak while the newly released students filed past. He quietly watched as people milled about, students and teachers alike. It wasn’t long before he saw the new instructor. Methos watched him impassively, the way he walked steadily forward, seemingly at ease as he made his way across campus. It was the little things that Methos noted: the way his head was tilted down, his eyes covered with dark glasses, his books and folders held up to guard his face from the sun.

As yet, Methos had made it a point to not approach the private investigator. All communication was being handled by MacLeod’s Watcher, Joe Dawson. It was better that way. 

Five months prior 

The rain was pouring down, great big droplets that splattered against the leather of Methos’ ankle length coat. Inside the inner lining his Ivanhoe was snug and safe; close to his side. Just where it should be. The street lights were on, although the illumination was blurred by the pelting rain.

Despite the weather, he was actually in a good mood. MacLeod was in Europe, hidden, but safe, unwilling to rejoin the Game. It would take time for Mac to come to terms with the violence he had been forced to deal with over such a short period of time. It was a hard world. Duncan tried to make it a better place. For men like him, it was harder than most.

Methos had enjoyed the warmth of Joe’s Blues Club; the music was lively, Joe’s companionship a warm blanket against the harsh reality of the immortal world. So what did it matter if Methos drank too much? The look on Joe’s face was priceless when he refused a ride, choosing instead to quote some of his favorite lines of Shakespeare and bow out of the club with a flourish.

“It was a cold and stormy night,” he called out to the empty street. He giggled. Where was that line from anyway? Disney? Snoopy? Bloody hell. He giggled again.

A feeling, scraping raw and abrasive across his nerve endings stopped him in his tracks. Sobering immediately, he stopped and slowly turned. Normally he would simply head in the opposite direction. After all, when he hadn’t been properly introduced, he got shy. Better to find a different way home and get Intel later.

However, with recent events, that was no longer an option. In fact, it was imperative that he knew exactly which immortals were in Seacouver. Stilling, he breathed slowly in and out, and focused intently on the signature of the other immortal. A minute, then two, and he realized the buzz was fading away in the opposite direction. Seemingly, the other immortal wasn’t interested in finding him. Of course, since Methos’ ability to sense another immortal had developed more strongly with age, it was possible that the other immortal wasn’t aware of his presence yet. He wasn’t exactly sure where the parameters lay. At what point could Methos feel the other immortal before he was detected himself? It had never occurred to him to test the theory, although that information would be quite handy at the moment.

After several minutes, when the feeling had almost completely faded, Methos silently trudged in that direction. Several blocks away the calling card of the other immortal had completely disappeared. He turned, then stopped, at first not sure what had stalled him. He had the uncanny feeling that something else was out there. He could sense something strong, not mortal, yet not an immortal.

With distinct unease, he scoped the perimeter one careful step at a time. He had almost given up, ready to shake off the feeling as nerves, and perhaps too much whiskey, when he saw the lights, muted, barely visible, but definitely there. He cautiously followed the path until he reached a one story brick building, the windows covered in dark drapes or blinds.

Walking around the structure as silently as possible, he found a window with a drape that hadn’t been completely pushed closed. The view was narrow, allowing him to see very little: people moving around a room, small vials of red liquid, and the beginning of a horizontal container reminding him of a freezer compartment at a grocery store. He couldn’t see how long it was or what it contained. It was what he saw next that turned his blood to ice.

Two of the people turned toward the window, their eyes translucent and wild, and fangs coated with what appeared to be blood. He thought of his friend, Kostan, and immediately knew what he was dealing with. Vampires -- and they appeared to be in a feeding frenzy. 

Now 

Methos reached into his coat and pulled out his cell, clicking it on when he saw Joe’s name on the display.

“What’s happening, Joe?”

“Are you coming by? Your guy checks out. It’s time we brought these bastards down.”

Methos calculated quickly. It was still early. Joe wouldn’t open for the dinner and evening crowd for another hour. He watched as St. John headed for his car and knew he was going to the bar. Joe was right. It was time.

“On my way.” Watching the dark sedan pull out of the parking lot, he slipped his phone back into his pocket. While he enjoyed borrowing Mac’s leather coat, today he had opted for his own lightweight, less conspicuous brown duster. St. John should arrive first. That would give him cover if anyone was watching their activity.

He opened the heavy door, giving his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dimmer room. Despite careful cleaning, the musty odor of cigarettes, alcohol and the lingering scent of the bar’s patrons still clung to the air. It was like coming home. He hesitated a moment, his senses alert as he assessed his surroundings; due to the current danger, out of habit. The Blues Bar was empty save Joe and Mick St. John who were both sitting at a small round table next to the bar top. He locked the door behind him and joined the other two at the table.

Across from him, St. John appeared watchful, muscles tense, quick to react. He was clearly uncomfortable with their close proximity. His hair was brown, tousled. He was slightly over six feet, medium build, but clearly in shape. He was the kind of man women would consider good looking. Before his arrival Amanda had looked him up on the internet. She said he was cute. He was eighty-five years old. He looked around thirty.

Methos didn’t mind the scrutiny. He was studying the other man just as closely. Two aberrations thrown together, both suspicious of the other, yet set on a common path. Methos had the advantage as he had known about the existence of vampires for over three hundred years. He still remembered his first encounter with Josef; his shock when he realized that other immortal beings lived among them. How they had kept their presence hidden for so long he never quite understood. Evidently vampires thought immortals were a myth as well. Good enough. It was better not to get in each other’s way.

A beer appeared in front of him. He nodded his head at Joe in appreciation, aware that the vampire’s bottle was still full, condensation already dripping onto the wooden table. The beer would remain untouched. He knew from his experience with Josef that vampires only drank blood. Other than that, no food or drink passed their lips. _A hell of an existence_ , he thought with irony. At least they didn’t have to worry about their heads being chopped off by other vampires. Mostly.

“Don’t you think it’s time for formal introductions?” the vampire spoke up, his head cocked to one side as he studied Methos with the sharp eye of a private investigator.

Methos stood and shifted out of his coat. Placing it on the seat next to him, his sword in easy reach, he sat back down and nodded to Mick in acknowledgement. “Adam Pierson, Head of the Linguistic department at Seacouver University at your service. Immortal. And you are Mick St. John, private investigator with a formable reputation in LA. Vampire. I think that pretty much sums it up.”

Mick nodded, his lips lifting with a hint of a smile as some of the tension eased from the room.

“If you ladies are finished, do you mind filling me in? What the hell do we know?” Joe rasped when he had taken his place at the table, his hand wrapped around his own bottle of beer.

“I haven’t sensed another vampire since my arrival to the area, but I did get a list of all the vampires we suspect are here,” St. John answered. Pulling a notepad out of his pocket, he passed it across the table. Picking it up, Methos scanned the names before sliding it over to Joe.

Easing out of his familiar slouch, Methos sat up straighter and pulled out his own list. “This is the list of immortals I’ve been able to verify.”

Joe studied the names carefully. “I’ve checked with the Watchers. We can’t find a record of anyone else in this part of the state.”

Methos pointed to the two lists with his bottle of beer. “Out of the immortals there are three I don’t personally know. I think we can assume that any or all of the vampires may be involved. From what our source told us, immortal blood has become a hot commodity on the black market. Evidently, we’re presently the most sought out game in town.”

Joe grunted his assent. While he didn’t know Methos’ source personally, he did trust his friend’s instincts. If both Mick and Methos trusted the man it was good enough for him.

The front door opened and Amanda entered with a flourish. Wearing a short dark dress with black leggings and leather boots, she picked up Methos’ coat and tossed it across his lap. She slid in between the vampire and her immortal friend. “I think I have the information we’re looking for.” She smiled widely and pulled her chair closer to St. John.

Methos had to bite back a snarky comment.

“Who do we have?” Joe diffused the moment with a warning look at Methos. He didn’t bother asking Amanda how she gained entrance to the locked bar. What was the point?

“Well,” Amanda began as she pulled off her jacket and laid it across her lap. “I was able to gain access to all three immortals homes. Two were clean. Their Watchers were right. They’re only passing through. But the third guy was definitely hiding something. He has a safe, but I didn’t have time to break in before he returned. Luckily, I felt him in time to get away. But it was close.”

“Which means he most likely felt you. Maybe I can break in. He won’t be able to sense me,” Mick offered.

“Can you break into the safe?” Methos asked him. He was well aware of a vampire’s strength and speed, and the guy was a private investigator. Breaking in would probably be easy enough, but he still might need Amanda’s skill to get what they needed.

“Maybe.” He turned to Amanda. “Regardless, it may be too dangerous for you to go back in. The guy can feel you coming.”

“You really think this guy is giving the vamps information?” Joe asked as he picked up his cane and eased out of his chair.

Methos waved his nearly empty bottle in the air, then addressed the room while he waited for Joe to return with two more beers.

“I don’t know who else it could be. It would have to be someone who can identify the immortals to the vampires. As long as he gets his cut, I’m sure he doesn’t care what happens to the others. He may even have the added bonus of taking their heads once the black market pirates are finished with them.”

Mick took a moment to reflect on their surroundings. As a vampire, he could hear within a block radius. He had yet to sense another vampire’s presence, either at the university or the area around the bar. He leaned forward. “Here’s what we know for sure. I was able to make contact with two of the vampires. They’ve been told that I’m in the market for a substantial amount of immortal blood for a very wealthy client. Knowing I’m a good friend of Josef’s, and more than likely aware of his less than pristine history, I’m pretty sure they’re buying in.”

Joe opened his mouth, then closed it. Methos shook his head. He would answer his friend’s questions later, in private.

“Do we know how they’re doing it?” Amanda piped up as she scooted her chair back and headed to the coffee maker behind the bar.

Mick waited for her return and pulled out her chair for her to sit down. A quick smile and he turned his attention back toward the group. “If this immortal is our guy, he’s giving the information to the vampires. They’re attacking the immortals when they’re alone. You heal easily.” He looked from Methos to Amanda. “But they’re stronger. Most likely they Taser, then drug their mark. Once they have the immortal immobilized and under their control they take him back to their stronghold.”

Methos nodded in acknowledgement. He had already worked it out, but it never hurt to lay it out again so they were all on the same page.

“Once there, he’s secured and allowed to wake up. They can drain him at their leisure, first feeding themselves, and then stockpiling the blood for the black market. Once they’ve accomplished that, they store the immortal in one of the freezers.” Sitting back more comfortably, he finally slid the bottle of warm beer away and absently stroked through the ring of water on the tabletop. He locked eyes with Methos. “It doesn’t take long for your blood to regenerate, and they can repeat the process all over again.”

“As far as Josef’s team can tell, Seacouver is the only area they’re working out of,” Methos added. “Traffic has been relatively light, but they know once Mac gets back his friends are likely to show up. It’s well known that his place is the grand central station of immortal activity. I’m not surprised that the vampires found out.”

Amanda took a sip of coffee and nodded. “It seems that even the immortal hunters wait until he returns home before they start showing up.”

“They don’t know that Mac isn’t coming home?” Joe questioned Amanda and Methos both.

“No, but we had to make it look as though he is. Otherwise they may move on and we won’t be able to track them,” Methos explained.

Amanda pushed her cup away and crossed her arms on the table top. “That’s why I’m staying at the loft. And Richie is due in tonight. Mac left his T-bird, which I’ve been driving around town. They’ll be looking for us and things need to appear as normal as possible.”

Momentarily, they slipped into silence, seemingly lost in thought. Joe looked up and studied the group. “Okay, if we’re sure this guy is the one giving them immortal information, do we really need to break into his safe? Mick, how many people do you need to handle the vampires when you nail them?”

“That’s our main problem. We’ve been able to identify four vampires already. But that doesn’t mean more won’t show up if they think your friend is due back soon. I won’t be alone though. Josef and I will have back up if we need them. The main focus of our community is keeping our identities safe. What this rogue group is doing threatens the existence of both immortals and vampires. When we go in, under no circumstance are any of you to interfere. I know you heal quickly and you can fight, but you won’t win against a vampire’s strength and speed.”

“We may be at risk anyway. They know we’re here. Even if we don’t get captured by vampires, we may end up trapped by their immortal counterpart,” Amanda reminded them.

“Not if I take him out first.” Methos’ voice was hard, final.

With that, Mick stood, grabbed the binders he would need to protect his face from the sun and addressed them one last time. “Look, I’m not sure when any of this will go down, but I suspect it will soon. Amanda, you and your friend may be at serious risk. They may think you’re the safest targets as well as the perfect bait to ensnare MacLeod. Be on the look-out and assume they’re on the hunt for you. Keep this in mind too…”

Mick smiled knowingly; a secret joke as he looked around the table. “Despite what Hollywood would have you believe, a stake to the heart won’t kill a vampire, but it will paralyze him. Bullets are pretty much useless. Decapitation works. So does fire. Whatever happens, we have a team that does clean up. You don’t have to worry about police scrutiny from our end.”

“The Watchers have our end covered.” Joe snorted. “With Mac around, we’ve had to be creative.”

“Yeah,” Mick grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Later that evening 

Amanda reached for a fluffy towel as she stepped out of the shower. She had pulled a small vanity table within reach of the door where she could keep the necessities within reach. Beside the towel were her robe, sword and blue steel Rohrbaugh 9 mm in its pocket holster. Lightweight with laser grips, the pistol went with her everywhere. Methos wasn’t the only one who was paranoid. Of course, it wasn’t paranoia when someone was out to get you.

After a long discussion with Richie and Methos later that evening, she had to admit that Methos was right. Not only was she Duncan’s lover, but she was the oldest known immortal in his circle of friends. In the minds of the vampires, they had won the lottery. Not only would they have the perfect bait to draw out Mac, but they’d have the blood of one of the oldest immortals in the vicinity. The immortal spotter would certainly know who she was. He was probably already salivating over the chance to take her head when the vampires were finished with her.

Of course, neither the spotter nor the vampires knew everything. Methos hadn’t felt another immortal at the university or his apartment, so it was safe to assume that the other immortal didn’t know about his existence. Quite frankly, it was Richie she was most worried about. While he had gained a reputation as a bad-ass immortal after Duncan’s dark quickening, he was still very young in both the mortal and immortal world. And none of them were trained for this fight.

Joe had made sure that all the immortals in the area were being watched closely by their Watchers and most had only been passing through Seacouver. She doubted any of them were even within the city limits now. Richie was with Joe at the bar handling recon between their team and Mick’s. It was well after one in the morning and Joe would be serving his last round of drinks. Soon the last patrons would leave and the bar would be their base of operations.

The last time they had talked, Methos had assured her that she was being carefully guarded. Not only were Methos, Richie and Joe looking out for her, but Mick St. John and his friend were guarding her as well. It was time to put an end to this once and for all.

Methos’ main goal was to force the immortal spotter out of hiding. The man might not have known about Adam Pierson, but that was going to be rectified soon, in a very painful way. Methos would take his head, but there was no rule saying he had to kill him right away.

As of now, none of them knew if there was an immortal victim at the vampire lair. Methos had only seen what appeared to be a freezer compartment. That wasn’t very telling since vampires slept in horizontal freezers as well. Amanda assumed that the more affluent the vampire was the more lavish his sleeping area would be, but it all added up to the same thing. Vamps put themselves on ice to get a good night’s sleep.

It wasn’t long before the suspense had taken its toll. She had already paced the loft until she knew every square inch of it by heart, made a cup of tea, poured it out when it got cold, picked up her phone to call Methos, deciding against it even as she punched in the numbers.

Finally, not being able to take it any longer, she used her speed dial to call Joe at the bar. Richie was there as well and she really didn’t care which one answered. Someone needed to tell her what was going on or she would go bat-shit.

Joe answered on the first ring, giving her a momentary rush of relief.

“Have you heard anything, Joe? I’m going crazy here.”

“Not a word, Amanda. Richie came in a couple of hours ago, but we haven’t heard anything from Adam or our other friends. I left the outside sign on and the only cars in the lot are mine and the T-bird, along with Richie’s motorcycle. Hopefully, that will send them in our direction instead of yours. You just need to be on guard. And whatever you do, stay put.”

A roll of her eyes, a long sigh and she begrudgingly acquiesced. “Fine. I’ll stay put. But you better get these guys soon. As much as I like Mac’s loft, it’s much more fun when he’s here with me.”

“Too much information, Amanda. There are some things even your Watchers don’t want to know.”

Amanda started to reply, only to have her laugh cut off with a startled gasp. She couldn’t identify all the sounds coming over the line, but the yell of pain and surprise from Joe was unmistakable. In the background she could hear crashing furniture intermingled with angry curses from Richie. She hoped Methos and Mick were close, but damn if she was going to stay locked up in the loft. A girl had to do what a girl had to do. To hell with the consequences.

Mac’s car was at the bar, but she had anticipated needing transportation when she arrived at the airport, and her rental car was parked in the back parking lot. Glad that Duncan had rewired the dojo so she could control all the lights from a remote, she slid her sword into her coat, grabbed her pistol and headed down the back stairway.

Luckily, the Seacouver police weren’t especially interested in traffic violations at the moment, otherwise she would have had one hell of a time explaining her sword and pistol. She really did need to get that permit to carry. Someday. But it was such a hassle when she had to keep changing her identity every few months. Thankfully, traffic was sparse and no one was put at risk as she sped through the red lights and stop signs.

Once she arrived she threw the car into park, pushed the off switch and dashed to the bar. It appeared that all hell was breaking loose. The front door had been kicked in, with both the door and jam left in shambles. She pushed her way in, searching frantically, until she found Joe lying motionless behind the bar.

Swerving past the mayhem taking place in the middle of the bar, she skidded to a kneeling position beside the mortal Watcher. He was awake, but his face was contorted with bruises and swelling, and from the way he was positioned, she could clearly see an injury to the back of his head.

His legs were mangled and unaligned, and she suspected he had been knocked off his feet, dislodging his prosthesis. Helping him sit up, she crawled to the cabinet under the bar sink and grabbed a bundle of towels. She covered him while he unzipped his pants and pulled them down his hips. Moving his hands to the towels to preserve his modesty, she tugged his pants the rest of the way down his thighs, and started the arduous task of unfastening and straightening his prosthesis to his stumps.

The destruction of the bar was devastating. While carefully continuing her task, she positioned herself where she could watch the raging battle between the immortals and vampires. Thankfully, Joe was able to help her by twisting his manufactured legs into the right position while she fastened them in place. Lifting his hips, he soon had his pants pulled up and back to rights.

Both Joe and Amanda had their guns by their sides while they watched from the cover of the bar. They might not be able to take out a vampire with a gun, but there had always been the possibility that more than one immortal was involved. If another immortal showed up to this mayhem, she would shoot first, giving her ample time to take his head. The rules be damned. Not when the bastard was giving up his own race to a group of murdering vampires.

Richie was lying against the far wall, unconscious, with no apparent signs of injury. _Why wasn’t he awake?_ There didn’t appear to be any damage above his neck, and his heart wasn’t staked. Joe followed her gaze.

“The lock on the door was shot open and they busted in before anyone could stop them. One of the vamps tasered Richie. Before he could react they shot him up with a syringe of some type of drug.”

She frowned. “What kind of drug? He should have revived by now.” Her concern filtered heavily through her voice.

“Yeah, I would have thought that too, but Mac was drugged by that ER doctor when Tessa was still alive and he was out for hours. Anyway, about the same time, Methos and shithead over there …” He indicated a tall immortal thrusting at Methos with a backsword fitted with an elaborate knuckle guard. Methos was slashing away at the man with his broadsword, obviously caring less about finesse than inflicting injury and pain on the man before taking his head.

“Before I knew it, I was being slung against the bar and you can see the rest.”

Amanda nodded, feeling her body tremble as she watched the vampires fighting; she counted six in all. Their bodies were being flung across the room with palpable rage, their eyes glowing and translucent, their fangs exposed -- threateningly, hungrily. She recognized Mick St. John fighting dangerously close to them; shocked by his strength and agility when he swept up to the ceiling with a graceful lunge, then came down powerfully to behead two of the vampires.

The sweet clang and rhythm of swords was close at hand as Methos and the other immortal fought amid the vampires, their own battle a dance in and of itself.

A vampire Amanda didn’t know threw himself in front of Mick just as a different vampire came at Mick’s vulnerable throat with a meat cleaver. A swift kick and the cleaver was torn from the vampire’s hand. Another ferocious kick and the vampire was hurled into a broken window pane where his head was severed, leaving a pile of dust in its place.

She heard a grunt, followed by the sound of steel slicing through flesh and bone, then a deathly quiet as energy gathered, heady and powerful as it prepared to pelt the surviving immortal with a merciless assault.

Covering Joe with her own body, she saw the two remaining vampires swoop from the building just as the quickening started. She winced, knowing how much Methos hated taking a quickening, stating the power was more painful than exhilarating. She didn’t know his history with immortal deaths, but she could only imagine that after five thousand years, the onslaught had taken its toll. 

Predawn 

Methos pulled up beside Mick St. John and Josef Kostan in the parking lot at Mac’s loft. Getting out of his car, he led the men into the dojo. It had been a hell of a night. Amanda and Richie had taken Joe to the emergency department to get officially treated. The bar was in shambles, but he and Josef had already made arrangements to have it completely renovated. Joe didn’t need to know who his benefactor was. It was done.

Clean up had been completed for immortals and vampires alike. Methos had to admit that the vampire’s team was efficient. Josef was right. Times had changed and it was far too dangerous to be sloppy. Vampires no longer left bodies lying around. It probably wouldn’t hurt to take a page from their lesson book. You couldn’t always depend on the Watchers.

A letter had already been submitted to the dean at the university. The pre-criminology class was being temporarily suspended with the students receiving half credits for their work.

All in all, mission accomplished. Maybe he would tell Mac about it one day. He might be disappointed that he had missed the adventure. Personally, Methos was glad he wasn’t there. If he knew his friend, and he did, he would have felt responsible to rush in and try to save everyone himself.

Mick St. John still didn’t know who Methos really was. Methos and Josef had agreed that it was for the best. Mick could be trusted, but that would have been too much responsibility to put on the young vampire’s shoulders. Besides, too many people already knew about his identity as it was. It made Methos much too nervous.

With a handshake Mick said his goodbyes and headed for Josef’s car. It was safer to drive back to Los Angeles, and Josef had the windows of his car tinted to keep out the rays of the sun.

“Well, my friend.” Josef grinned. While Methos could easily pass for a thirty year old man, Josef still had the looks and charm of a man in his mid-twenties. Josef was barely over four hundred, but in a vampire’s life, that was considered quite old. They both knew of the other’s past, but both would take their secrets to the grave. If they ever had one.

A hug between friends, a secret held safe and both men went their separate ways.

The End


End file.
